Without Him
by Adrienne2
Summary: Elizabeth ponders life without Mark.
1. Part I

"Without Him"

"Without Him"

By: Adrienne

Spoilers: Through season seven.

Summary: Elizabeth ponders what life without Mark will be like.

I watch him constantly. I watch his every move during the day and I watch every breath he takes at night. I live in constant terror that one day he'll collapse on the floor or that one morning he just won't wake up. It could happen at any time, at any place, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I heal people every day, but I can't help the one person I love the most.

He's everything to me. My husband, my best friend, and the father of my daughter. He's my life. I never thought I'd have to live without him; I don't think I can. 

Dr. Burke said that he had at least eighteen months. Six months have passed so far. I only have a year left with him. That means he'll be lucky if he's there for Ella's first birthday. He won't be there for her first steps, or when she's old enough to call him "Daddy." She'll grow up without her father; without knowing how wonderful he is and how much he loves her. He won't be there for her first day of school, her sixteenth birthday, high school graduation or be there to walk her up the aisle on her wedding day. I look at her sweet little face and wonder how we'll survive when he's gone. I want to cry and scream, but I have to be strong. For her…for both of us.

When she grows up, I'll tell Ella about her father. What a great doctor he was and stories about us. How we met, our first date at Navy Pier and how he proposed. I'll tell her everything I know about him from the last four years. I take pictures of them together all the time, so at least Ella will have something left of her father. I want Ella to know her half-sister Rachel and to know her stories about their father, but after he's gone I'm afraid that will never happen.

I wonder what the ER will be like when he's gone. He's been there so long that surely it won't be the same. Carter looks up to him, Kerry depends on him, the patients need him…I need him.

I hate the idea that I'm going to watch my husband die. When the tumor comes back, slowly he'll become weaker and weaker. In the end he won't be the same man that I know and love. Or maybe that will be for the better, I'll slowly get used to the fact that he's leaving, and parts of him will fade away one at a time until there's nothing left. But I'm fooling myself when I think that. No matter if he goes quickly or slowly, it will still be agony.

I used to believe in miracles…maybe I'm still hoping for one. I've seen enough patients pull through that shouldn't have to know that they do happen. But I'm not holding my breath.

Last night I found him holding Ella and they were both asleep. I stood there for the longest time watching them thinking, "I wish it could always be like this." But it can't.


	2. Part II

"Without Him: Part II"

"Without Him: Part II"

By: Adrienne

Spoilers: Through season seven, some from eight

Author's Note: Told from Elizabeth's POV

Most nights I find that I cannot sleep. I'm too scared. What if he goes while I'm asleep? I want to spend every moment I can with him. But eventually I drift off. Every night it's the same dream; or nightmare, rather. We're walking through a park and he's pushing Ella's stroller. It's a perfect day. There's laughter and light, flowers and smiles. But then the world comes crashing down, the sun disappears, Ella's screaming and suddenly he's seizing on the grass. I stand there, frozen, helpless. I do nothing to stop my daughter's cries or my husband's pain. I'm paralyzed by fear. I stay there for an eternity, waiting…for what? Help, I suppose. But no one comes. They never do. And then I wake up with a start, breathless and in a cold sweat. I know the nightmares aren't real, but they could happen at any time.

I stare at him while he's asleep sometimes. I watch his chest rise up and down with every breath, confirming that he's still alive. I wonder why this is happening. To him. To us. Why? Is it fate? God's will? Punishment for some atrocity committed? Or is there no God and this is just random bad luck? I want an answer. I need to know why he's been given this death sentence…because it's not fair. But then again life's not fair. Isn't it ironic that a man who devotes his life to saving others can't be saved by his own seemingly all-powerful profession?

The mornings are just as bad as the nights. I don't want to get out of bed. I don't have the energy. I don't want to face the day and all the horrors it may bring. In that sense, the days are worse than the nights; there are no shadows to hide in. But of course no matter the time, there are always those damned responsibilities I have to answer to. Ella has needs and there are surgeries to perform and patients to attend to. Maybe my lack of enthusiasm is from post-partum depression. Or maybe it's dread and an overwhelming fear that today is the day it all ends.

I see the way people watch me when I'm at work. Like I'm an emotional time bomb. Like I'm already a widow. They treat me with caution, look at me with pity. I don't need their pity. Even Robert is different around me. He tries to be the same bureaucratic bastard, but in his eyes I see it, the "I'm so sorry for you" look, and I hate it. Even Kerry tries to be kind to me now. Luka Kovac treats me differently than the rest, though. Perhaps because he lost his wife and children, and knows what it's like. He doesn't give me pity; he shows a knowing compassion instead. I'm grateful for that.

I love him more than anything. He means everything to me, but just the same I'm angry with him. I'm angry with him because he'll leave me, because when he asked me to marry him and promised this was forever, he was lying. Forever isn't a year, and that's all we have left. And when I find myself angry with him, I become furious with myself; how could I feel this way about a man who loves me, who I love? He doesn't want to die. But I'm angry all the same that he's leaving me. It could be today, tomorrow or a year from now, but his death is always there, lingering in the future, like a black cloud. I hate myself because I should be enjoying the time we have left, but everytime he smiles I can't help but think how much I'll miss him. And I hate myself because I'm only thinking about how hard it will be for me, not how hard it must be for him, knowing he's going to die. I feel desperate, and I'm constantly on the verge of tears. I hate myself for that too. I used to be so strong. What happened? What happened to my confidence, to my professionalism…to my happiness?

He's started writing letters to Ella and Rachel, telling them about himself. He wants me to give them to the girls when they turn eighteen. I see the wistfulness in his eyes everytime he looks at Ella or talks to Rachel on the phone. Rachel's coming to live with us for his last year, and I know that makes him happy. Rachel hasn't lived with him since she was five years old. She's thirteen now, and I know he regrets missing out on so much of her life; I know how much he regrets that he won't be there for Ella…I regret that he won't be there.

Often I ponder what it will be like when he's gone. Will I be a grieving widow forever, or will I move on and find someone else? I curse myself for thinking that; Mark's still here. But sometimes it's almost like he's not…we're both preparing ourselves for when that happens. I've watched Luka Kovac; I've seen his constant depression until recently when he obviously fell in love again. I wonder if that's how I'll end up, moody and sorrowful…perhaps I should ask him for tips on how to deal with losing a spouse, I muse bitterly, and instantly kick myself mentally for thinking such thoughts. What kind of person am I? He's still here, and I'm planning what my life will be like when he's gone? I feel the tears burning in my eyes again, but I don't stop them. I'm tired of stopping them, and I'm tired of my life. Often the anguish I feel becomes actual physical pain. I feel it in my chest, a constant ache in my heart. I almost wish I had never fallen in love with him, and I hate myself even more. Will it be a relief when he's gone? God, how can I think that? I wish this was an awful dream that I could wake up from; I would wake up and there would be no tumor, we'd live happily ever after. But there is no such thing as happily ever after, at least not in this world.

I continue crying and I hear his footsteps as he walks into the bedroom. "Lizabeth? Lizabeth, what's the matter?" he softly inquires. I do not reply, and he takes me in his arms. For a few moments, lying here together, I can pretend nothing is wrong, but it only lasts a few moments. I wish I could die when he dies, but I can't. I have a daughter now who needs me to be there for her. I promise myself I'll always be there for her, even though no one will be there for me. I have to live for my daughter, even though her father will not live for me. 

I wonder if this sorrow will always follow me, haunt me. Perhaps after he's gone I'll go back to Britain, be closer to Mother and Daddy. It would make Daddy happy if I took a job with his practice. There's nothing for me here without him. I do have a job and friends, but it won't be the same. At work, he is always there, and soon he won't be. My friends are his friends. It will just be too hard. But I suppose we'll wait and see. That's all there is now, waiting. Except I don't know when it's going to end…Oh God, please help me…


	3. Part III

"Without Him: Part III"

By Adrienne

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. 

Author's Note: This deviates from the actual storyline of season eight.

The darkness is so comforting, so warm. I can just lie here in bed and forget everything that's going on out in the world. I open my eyes and see nothing but darkness, and sense that he's no longer beside me. My heart seizes for a moment in panic, but then I remember he had an early shift. So this is what it will be like to wake up alone every morning, I groggily muse. Except his side of the bed won't be rumpled, and his scent will be gone. He won't be there to hold me through the night anymore or whisper sweet nothings in my ear.

What time is it? I look over at the clock and the glowing red numbers tell me it is 8:30 am, and I have to be up in a half-hour. I don't know that I can endure another day of work, the impatient nurses, the worried relatives, the irresponsible patients who are now paying for their mistakes. Not to mention Weaver and Romano who seem to constantly have me in the middle of a surgery versus ER tug-of-war.

I can feel exhaustion pulling me under once again, but I'm startled awake by a shrill baby's cry. "Ella, please go back to sleep, baby," I whisper, but the screaming persists, so I drag my body out of bed and slowly make my way to her room to start another day…

Get dressed, dress the baby, eat breakfast, feed the baby, gather everything for work and daycare, drive to work, drop the baby off at daycare, avoid Romano and sneak into my office. It's the same routine everyday. Scrub in, perform surgery, scrub out, do paper work, report to the ER and take part in yet another bloody trauma. 

I'm tired of it all. I just want to get away and be with my baby and my husband, to not have to worry about this job and all of these strangers who I treat everyday. I'd love it if we could go somewhere and just relax with the little time we have left. There's still so much I want to tell him, so many things we had dreamed about doing and just never got around to. 

Rachel recently moved in with us, and that hasn't helped anything. She hadn't been getting along with her mother but she's scared and misses Jenn though they were arguing. She's left all of her friends behind in St. Louis and has to start all over at a new school in the middle of a year. And she's here to watch her father die. No child should have to watch a parent die, but he wants her here at the end. I know he feels he's been a bad parent and now it's too late to make any of that up. Rachel is good with Ella but rather skittish around me, never sure of what to say. She's his daughter too and I want to know her, I want Ella to grow up knowing her older sister who knows so much more of their father. 

I'm brought out of my reverie by a knock on my office door. "Come in," I call, and Susan Lewis walks in. This is rather unexpected and I'm sure the surprise is visible on my face. She smiles at me uneasily and I wonder what she's doing here. She's his best friend and recently returned from Arizona. In a way she threatens me because they get along so well, seem to have such a history. When they speak of the past it's with nostalgia and regret, as if one of them made a horrible mistake that they both now regret, but I never ask. I don't want to know. It's too late in the game to be angry or jealous.

"What can I do for you?" I ask his old friend, studying her worried features.

"Uh… I'm not really sure how to say this," she says. "I think you need to come downstairs."

Panic seizes me. Something's happened, something awful and it's not some anonymous patient, it's him, why else would Susan have come up here herself instead of the ER paging me? I'm not ready for him to be gone. "Wha—What happened?" I stammer.

"Mark… he had a seizure a few minutes ago." She looks into my eyes, and I see tears there. We both know what that means. The tumor is back, growing stronger. It won't be long now.

We ride down in the elevator together, in an awkward silence. She leads me to Exam Four and he's lying there, looking exhausted. There are dark bags under his eyes and his face has lines I've never seen before. He opens his eyes as I walk into the room and I find that I can't breathe. He looks so weak.

"Hey," he says, and beckons for me to come to his side.

"How are you feeling?" I ask. A stupid question, but I ask it anyway.

"I've been better," he replies, with his old sarcastic smile.

"Grand Mal seizure?"

"Yeah," he nods. The tears are forming in my eyes now. It stings my face as they fall and I can't stop them. "Hey, hey, hey. Don't cry," he whispers, stroking my face. "We knew this would come."

"I know…but…" I don't have the words to express what I'm feeling. I'm not ready to be alone, I'm not ready for him to leave me forever. I'm not ready to raise our daughter on my own.

"It's okay. I understand," he tells me and there's something in his eyes. There's more to tell me. "Two weeks ago the headaches started again. I went to neuro and got a CAT scan. The tumor's back, larger this time and bordering Brokis. I just didn't know how to tell you."

My first reaction is anger. How could he not tell me? "What do you mean you didn't know how to tell me? I'm your wife, I deserve to know!"

"I didn't want to worry you. I didn't want you to suffer for even longer. I thought it would be better if you didn't know for a while longer."

I feel betrayed. I know he did this for me, but I feel betrayed nonetheless. How could he not tell me something like this? Are there other things he hasn't told me?

"I'm not ready for this," I tell him.

"Neither am I," and he brings his face towards mine to kiss me. I'll miss that. Kissing him hello. Kissing him goodbye. Kissing him for no reason at all.

I clear my throat and wipe my tears away. "Do you have to stay here tonight?"

"No. Kerry said I could go home tonight, but have to stay for at least a few more hours… How's Ella? She was still asleep when I left this morning."

"Happy, as ever." Of course she's happy, she's a baby. She doesn't know her father's dying. "She ate a whole banana at breakfast."

He laughs. "She's getting big."

"Yeah," I smile.

"I was supposed to pick Rachel up from school today. Could you do that?"

"Of course. Do you want me to bring her here?"

He hesitates. "Do you think I should tell her yet?"

If he hadn't had a seizure today, how much longer would he have waited to tell me? "You have to sooner or later, and I think it's best she knows now, so she can prepare herself."

"Okay… Bring her here then." 

I kiss him goodbye and numbly walk upstairs. I knew this would happen, I thought I'd be able to handle it. I deal with death everyday, but this… This is something completely different. I just want to be alone right now, to deal with this so I can be there for everyone else later, but Romano spots me before I can hide.

"Lizzie! Where have you been? We have a colostomy in fifteen."

Oh God, I completely forgot. "I can't, Robert. I'm sure you can handle it yourself."

"Why? Where do you have to be? Trouble in paradise?"

"Robert…" I begin, but the look in my eyes explains it all. "He had a seizure. I'm going to get my baby from daycare and pick my stepdaughter up from school."

His demeanor changes completely. "Do whatever you have to, Elizabeth. Take whatever time off you need, I'll cover your patients."

"Thank you, Robert." He does have a heart. He doesn't show it often, but it's there and when it comes to something truly important he does care. Not many people see it, but he has a very kind heart.

I get to the nursery and see the children playing inside, carefree. Ella is sitting in a corner, playing blocks with another baby girl about her age. 

"You're early," the babysitter says, and all I reply is, "Yeah." Ella smiles when she sees me and reaches her arms out to be picked up.

"Hi baby," I say and she gurgles in response. "Did you have a good day? Were you a good girl?" I ask as I gather her diaper bag. She looks so much like him that it hurts. She has his eyes and his mouth. Her hair is blonde and slightly curly, like his was when he was a baby. I pray to God she doesn't grow up looking too much like him. I wouldn't be able to look at her without feeling a stab of pain. I look away guiltily for thinking that. How could I hate looking at my own child? She's my daughter, a beautiful little girl and I love her so much that I would die for her. 

We drive to Rachel's school in the rain. Ella's fallen asleep and I watch the kids pour out of the school, getting into their cars, running in the rain or climbing onto the bus. Rachel walks out holding hands with an older-looking boy and walks over to the car.

"I thought Dad was picking me up," she says, confused.

"Yes, he was, but he asked me to."

"Oh. Was the ER really busy?"

"Who was that boy you were with, Rachel?"

"Ben, my boyfriend," she replies. "Why couldn't Dad pick me up?"

"Is he in the same grade as you?" I ask in a rather feeble attempt to avoid the subject. 

"No, he's a junior," she says, sensing something's wrong.

"That's nice," I say. Rachel looks in the back seat and sees Ella sleeping. "What's wrong, Elizabeth? Where's Dad?"

I look at her and try to find the right words, but there are none. "Your father… he um… He had a seizure today at work."

"Is he all right?"

No, of course he isn't all right! He's dying! "Uh, yeah, he's fine now. He just has to stay at the hospital for a few more hours this evening for observation but he should be able to come home tonight. He wanted me to bring you to see him."

She doesn't say anything. What must be going through her mind right now? She's quiet for the rest of the ride to County and when we park in the ramp, she finally asks. "Is it the tumor? Is it back?" She looks me straight in the eye. She never does that.

I nod. "Yes, it is, Rachel." Her face falls. She still had hope left that he would be okay and I just killed it. She gets out of the car, and I retrieve Ella, following her into the ER. As we walk to Exam Four various doctors and nurses greet us, Lydia and Haleh commenting on how big Rachel and Ella have both gotten. I'd forgot that they've known Rachel since she was a little girl.

Ella starts to fuss; she wants Rachel to hold her, and Rachel takes her, giving the baby a few kisses on the head and tickling her. We stop outside Exam Four and look in. He's sleeping and I notice now that he looks thinner, paler. Rachel sees this too and sits on the bench across the hall.

"Are you all right?" I ask. I don't know what to do if she says "no." I don't know how to comfort her. I'm not her mother, I'm her father's second wife and I know she resents me for it. She's still holding Ella, distractedly stroking her arm.

She looks up at me with his eyes, with the same eyes I know Ella will grow up having. "I—I didn't notice until now how…sick he looks… There isn't much time left, is there?" Tears are rolling down her face now. 

I sit next to her and wrap my arms around her instinctively. We're both surprised by this. We cry together and Ella looks at us, confused. 

"I don't know what to do," she cries. "I don't know what to say to him."

"He just wants you to be there, Rachel. He's your father and he loves you. He wishes he had been there more for you and right now all he wants is to be with you." Where did those words come from? I knew them, but I didn't know I could say them, especially to her.

She looks up and nods at me. I take Ella back and we walk into the room together where he's waking up. He smiles. "Hey, Rach."

"Hi Dad," she whispers, sitting on the edge of the bed. They have a lot to say, and I leave them to say it. They need this time alone, just as father and daughter. I walk back through the ER and see the familiar faces. I talk briefly with Kerry who gives me a stoic briefing of his condition and then before parting finally shows me emotion. "I'm sorry," she simply says, walking away. So am I.

I'm sorry he's sick. I'm sorry he's dying. I'm sorry that I wasn't a better wife, that I'm not a better stepmother to Rachel. I'm sorry for every damn thing I've ever done. Right now I'm sorry for myself and for my daughter who will never know how much her father loved her or what a wonderful man he was. Is. What a wonderful man he is, I correct myself. 

The rain is still falling outside and I feel a chill entering my body, so I pull Ella closer to me. He's slipping away and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I'm a doctor, I'm supposed to save people's lives, and I do everyday, but I can't save the life of my own husband, of the man I love and vowed to cherish until death do us part. When we were first engaged and I dreamt of saying those vows, I didn't think death would have anything to do with our marriage, with our life. Death was a distant threat, so far removed from my thoughts that I believed "until death do us part" wouldn't come until we were old and had lived a wonderful life together. 

Suddenly, I feel very alone. He's slipping away slowly, and there's nothing I can do. 


	4. Part IV

"Without Him: Part IV"

By: Adrienne

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. 

Author's Note: This deviates from the actual storyline of season eight. This chapter is again narrated by Elizabeth and takes place directly after part three.

The rain is still falling when I walk out of the ambulance bay with Ella in my arms. The weather is unusually warm for late February and the remnants of the dirty snow are melting away and being washed into the sewers. 

We walk across the street to Doc Magoo's and as always the restaurant is swarming with customers, most clad in lab coats or scrubs of varying colors. When we get in there isn't an empty seat and I consider going elsewhere, but Luka Kovac spots me and beckons me to his booth. "Have a seat," he says congenially. "I don't think there are any open tables."

"You're sure?" I ask cautiously. Kovac and I have had our share of arguments and tiffs in the past over patient care and surgical consults, but he nods and I accept the seat.

"She's getting big," he says, gesturing to Ella. I remember hearing rumors about Kovac's past, that he had a wife and two children. We're alike, the two of us, in many ways. Strong-willed, both foreigners and soon widower and widow. 

"Ella just turned ten months old a few days ago," I tell him, bouncing Ella slightly on my lap. "Isn't that right, baby?" She looks up at me and smiles. I look across the table and Kovac is looking at Ella with a smile, but his eyes are wistful, longing.

"Is Mark all right? I heard he had a seizure today," the heavily accented doctor asks.

Is he all right? Well, he's not dying today if that's what you're asking. I muster a smile and answer with a non-answer, "He should be able to go home tonight." Kovac nods, understanding that "all right" was something he will never be again.

The waitress comes to the table and I order a coffee for me and a juice for Ella. We sit in silence for a few moments. "I hear that your step-daughter moved in with you?" 

I'm grateful for a question to answer. I don't want to be left alone with my thoughts right now. "Yes, Rachel. She was in St. Louis and decided to come and stay with us for a while."

"How old is she?"

"Um, thirteen. She's a big help with the baby."

"Thirteen?" He asks with a slight smile. "That's how old my son would have been."

I'm slightly taken aback. On the rare occasions I've talked with Kovac on a non-medical subject, he's never revealed anything personal. "What was his name?"

"Marko. Marko, and Jasna was my daughter's name… She would have been sixteen now," he tells me with that same wistful look. 

"I'm sorry," I tell him. What else is there to say?

"No, no, it's okay," he says. "It's not often I get to talk about them… Danijela, my wife, used to say that I'd never talk about anything but them. What they did, what they ate, what they said…anything… I miss that."

I smile at him. Will I be able to talk about him like that ten years later? Will I have made peace with the fact of his death, will I have accepted it and moved on? Kovac pulls a picture out of his wallet. I take it and study it. It's a woman and a little girl, with dark eyes and dark hair like his. The woman is quite beautiful; happiness is apparent in her radiant eyes. 

"That is Danijela and Jasna at Jasna's birthday party," he says. 

"They're beautiful," I reply. "Do you have a picture of your son?"

He hesitates. "No," he shakes his head. "No. Our apartment was destroyed in a bombing and there were many fires and thefts afterwards. I'm lucky to have this one picture."

Kovac's eyes are so full of sorrow that I regret asking, but they're also so kind and understanding that before I can stop myself, I blurt out, "How did you get through it?" It's a horrible thing to ask, but I need to know.

He looks at me again across the table with that same wrenching look, and omnisciently comprehends everything. "One day at a time… That's how I've lived the last ten years, at least… In the beginning for me, I didn't have any time to grieve because of the war. And I wasn't the only one who had lost his family, husbands and sons and wives and mothers were dying everyday. And then after the war…I didn't let myself grieve. You have to give yourself time to do that and to say goodbye, which is always the hardest part. You still think of them everyday, and everyday it's a little bit less. They start to fade, but you never forget them, not completely. You can never forget someone you loved that much…And I still love them. Love is the one thing you will always have left."

I'm surprised to feel tears running down my face and Kovac hands me a handkerchief. I'm embarrassed to cry in front of him, in a public place like this and wipe the tears away quickly. "Can time really heal wounds like that?" I think. I can't imagine that it does. I wipe some more tears away, and realize that my face is smeared with mascara. "Excuse me for a moment," I tell him.

"Let me hold Ella for you," Kovac offers. I hesitate, but she goes to him willingly, taking an immediate liking to this foreign doctor, so I relax a little and make my way to the bathroom. The tears have slowed and come to an end as I wipe the mascara from my face with toilet paper and water. My eyes are still red and swollen, but at this point I don't care, and make my way back out into the diner.

The waitress has brought my coffee and Ella's juice along with Kovac's order, an ice cream sundae. Ella is smiling and laughing in his arms as he tickles her. He looks so natural with a child in his arms. All traces of sadness are gone from his eyes as Ella claps her hands on his cheeks.

"I'm sorry about that," I say as I sit back down.

"Don't apologize," he says. "I hope you don't mind, but I gave Ella a little ice cream."

"No, no, that's fine," I reply. She looks content in his arms and in no rush to come back to me, so he continues holding her.

"Do you know how much time he has left?" Kovac ventures to ask.

"I don't know… A few months at the most, I suppose."

He nods, and doesn't say anything. "Are you going to be taking time off work for a while?"

I hadn't even thought about that. "Perhaps," I reply, "It's just that… I…" I can feel the tears coming again. "I'm so angry with him!" My words surprise me. I hadn't realized it until I said it, but now that I have, I'll admit it. I am angry with him. And to my surprise, Kovac doesn't look shocked or appalled. He simply looks like he understands.

"I was very angry for a long time, for many years. How could I not be? I was angry with God for taking my family away, I felt he had forsaken me, forsaken all of Croatia. I was angry with Danijela and my children for leaving me… But most of all, I was angry with myself, because I had not taken my family to the market that day. I thought it would be too dangerous, so I made them stay home… And then I didn't take Danijela to the hospital because I couldn't leave Jasna. If I had done that she might be alive today… But then I realized that being angry doesn't help anything, it just hurts me more."

"…I don't want him to leave me," I whisper desperately.

"But you still have time," he replies. "Don't let it go to waste. You still have time to say goodbye, to say all the things you've meant to say. Make sure there's nothing left to regret."

I look out the window and see the rain flooding the streets and know he's right. Nothing short of a miracle will save him now, whatever happens, I'll have to live the rest of my life without him. But he's still here, and that's time that shouldn't go to waste. I just don't think I'll ever be able to let go.


End file.
